


Inner Monologue

by TheOpeningScene



Series: demus be wildin [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: Selfishness v. Selflessness, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, and Remus is there too, basically Deceit is a petty bitch for 1000 words, or at the very least Morally Grey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOpeningScene/pseuds/TheOpeningScene
Summary: Remus is a web of thoughts and experiences tangled together so tightly, it hurts sometimes to touch him, to even brush against that constant buzz of consciousness, the stream of inane gibberish not even Remus can completely decipher.-After such a devastating defeat, Deceit can only think of one place to go.





	Inner Monologue

**Author's Note:**

> I really should be working on my multi-chapter Demus fic, but this thought popped into my head and I couldn’t help myself, whoops.

Deceit didn’t remember the last time he was this mad. He didn’t think he’s ever even _ been _ this mad. They are just so, _ so _ unbelievably impossible. He doesn’t miss them, that’s for sure.

He doesn’t return to his room when he sinks down. Even though he craves its warmth, he doesn’t know if he can face the emptiness of it, striped of character, effectively a mirror where he can think and work without distraction. Facing his room is facing himself, and although he knows self-reflection is necessary to improvement, Deceit also knows that he just can’t face that criticism. Not now. Not after such a monumental defeat.

So, instead, Deceit goes to the only other place he can: Remus’ room.

It’s more of a prison, really. Bars cover the windows, the door is bolted shut. None of this really stops Remus, of course, that’s all Deceit’s doing. He supposes Remus just likes the aesthetic.

The combination of relief and a freezing chill as Deceit appears in Remus’ prison leaves a sour taste in his mouth. When was the last time Remus brought him any _ relief? _ Deceit supposes it made sense, though, considering recent events.

Ever since revealing Thomas to himself, the others have gotten difficult to control. He used to be the proprietor of knowledge, controlling everything that goes in and out of Thomas’ head, having more control over morals than even Patton did in some places. But then he got overzealous, got greedy, got _ personal. _ Deceit couldn’t help himself, he needed more control, he _ needed it, it was the only way to protect Thomas, why couldn’t the others see? _

“Deceit?” Deceit looks up as he’s pulled from his thoughts, and there he is, looking down at him from the top of the stairs. Remus gasps loudly, shrieking as he runs towards Deceit, tripping twice because of the ball and chain connected to his ankle. Again, aesthetics.

Remus throws himself as Deceit, hugging him with a crushing grip. He doesn’t yell at Deceit, doesn’t chastise him for not visiting in so long, doesn’t question where he’s been. Remus just hugs him, hot body pressed firmly against his cold one, face nestled snugly in the crook of his neck. Hesitantly, Deceit hugs him back.

Remus is easy to control. Maybe that’s why Deceit is so relieved to see him. He hates to say it, but it’s true - Remus is laughably easy to manipulate. He’s like his brother in that sense, but he’s smarter than his brother, more self-aware, just enough so that Deceit can gain a tight enough foothold without losing him to confusion. 

Remus is just-- well, not simple, necessarily. The opposite, really. Remus is a web of thoughts and experiences tangled together so tightly, it hurts sometimes to touch him, to even brush against that constant buzz of consciousness, the stream of inane gibberish not even Remus can completely decipher.

Remus isn’t simple, but he’s content. Sure, he wants things for Thomas (so many things, terrifying things, gruesome things, things that scare Deceit, that remind him why he does this, why he keeps Remus trapped here), but for himself? Deceit could give Remus nothing more than a box to live in and crayons to color with, and as long as he stopped by from time to time, he’s positive Remus would never complain. Maybe it was blissful ignorance, maybe it was a crushing acceptance of reality the rest of them lacked. Whatever it was, Deceit was envious of it.

Remus pulls away, but not completely, keeping his hands on Deceit’s waist as he leans back to raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re not actually considering putting me in a box, are you?”

Ah, right. Remus hears every thought that passes through his room, which right now, include Deceit’s own. It was a terrifying side effect, especially for someone like him. Usually Deceit’s able to keep his inner monologue more under control, but he’s not exactly on his A-game right now.

He knows that Remus knows that he’d isn’t considering putting him in any box. He knows that Remus knows that Deceit hates having to trap Remus here as is, that treating him like a threat (_ he is a threat though, isn’t he? _) is killing him, killing them, driving them both insane.

It’s all left unsaid, however. 

“Maybe I will,” Deceit hums, cupping Remus’ face, running his thumb along his jaw. “Just leave you to your own devices for a few days. I’ve always wondered what you’d get up to with only yourself.”

“Oh, I can think of a _ lot _ of ways to play with myself.” Remus grins up at him coyly, pinching his hips. Deceit laughs - it was easy bait, but he can’t help it.

“Really?”

“A list and everything.”

“I’ll be sure to watch, then.”

They’re both snickering to themselves now, and maybe this is why Deceit’s so relieved to see Remus. 

Suddenly, like a bomb being dropped, Deceit is reminded of all the infuriating shit that led him hear. He huffs in frustration, snuffing out his giggles, sighing in defeat as his head falls to Remus’ shoulder.

Remus reaches up and pats Deceit on the back awkwardly, put off by his sudden mood shift. Remus might be able to hear every thought, but that doesn’t mean he understands. Which is fine.

He listens. He tries.

“They’re impossible, Remus. They don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Remus inquires, removing Deceit’s hat from his head so the rim isn’t jabbing into his jaw. He plays with the hair at the nap of his neck.

“That I’m trying to protect him. Everything I do, _everything_, is to protect him from society, from getting hurt, from _hurting_ _himself._” 

Remus shifts uncomfortable in his grip. Deceit realizes that in his anger he’s coiled around Remus, squeezing him in his grip, nails digging into his back. With a deep breath, Deceit forces himself to relax, smoothing his palms down Remus’ back in an apology.

“Sometimes it requires sacrifice.”

Sacrifice of truth, sacrifice of morals, sacrifice of themselves. It’s necessary to keep Thomas safe, to keep his interest focused on himself. It’s more than necessary, it’s _ critical _.

Everything Deceit does. Everything.

And nobody understands that. Nobody seems to _ get it. _ Deceit likes to think that at some point Virgil understood (back when he was just Anxiety, back when he was unhappy and afraid, back when only faint white lies could lull him to sleep), but that matters little now.

Why does any of it matter now? Why does he continue to hold onto his feigning control? Why does he continue to try so hard to hold back the truth, to make these sacrifices, when nothing comes of it?

_ They don’t appreciate all I’ve done for them. They never have. _

“I do.” Remus says sharply and without hesitance, so fast after the initial thought that Deceit doesn’t realize what he’s talking about until he speaks again. “I know how hard you work, D.”

Deceit raises his head from Remus’ shoulder and stares at him.

They’re two sides of the same coin, him and Remus. Opposites in every manor. Remus is hot and blistering, Deceit is cold and numb. Deceit is a constant hunger for more and more, measured in waxing and waning control, and Remus embodies a restless content, a stream of consciousness wrapped up neatly in itself. Remus doesn’t care much. Deceit can’t care enough.

Warm arms hold him by the hips, big bruised eyes watch him carefully, and in this moment, Deceit can only think that he doesn’t deserve this. Remus doesn’t belong in this cage.

Here he’s been for years, holding Remus back, and for what? To be yelled at and shunned by the others? For Remus, the only one who’s been with Deceit since the beginning, to be punished for the crime of being himself? For them both to suffer, heartbroken, as Deceit attempts to salvage the last of what they used to be?

No. No, he won’t stand for this mistreatment any longer.

It’s time he sheds his old ways.

Thomas wants to be more honest with himself? Fine. He can do honesty.

Remus, who knows exactly what Deceit is thinking, grins widely.

It’s the most excited Deceit has seen him in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> So! Obviously, this fic included a shit ton of headcanons and concepts about all sorts of things. I’ll explain some of them a little below, for those curious.
> 
> 1.) Deceit’s room. In case it wasn’t obvious, I really interpret a lot of Deceit through the lens of him being Thomas’ “self-preservation,” or most of his motives center around that idea of protecting Thomas from, well...everything (don’t ask what the difference between that and Anxiety’s job is, because I haven’t figured that out yet lol). ANYWAYS, my current interpretation is that Deceit’s room is basically a really comfortable bunker, striped of all but bare-minimums so Deceit can properly give focus to problems at hand (and there is ALWAYS a problem at hand) and also because attachments to material items is a lie constructed by the human conscious for blah blah blah. Deceit’s room is designed to act as a panic room in the event of some emergency. It’s not a very healthy living condition. As for the exact effects of the room, haven’t really ruled those out yet.
> 
> 2.) Remus’ room. This whole fic is based around the idea of Deceit being the only buffer between Remus and the rest of the sides/Thomas for a long time. Deceit restricts Remus activity to the part of Thomas’ brain that he occupies, because, despite how much he hates the idea, Deceit believes that Remus is a big danger to Thomas’ mental health, and letting Remus roam free would be against everything he’s trying to accomplish in protecting Thomas. Thus, Remus’ room acts as his prison. As for the effects of the room, it increases the frequency of unwanted and intrusive thoughts (obvi), but Remus can also hear any and every thought passing through the room, thus the mind reading.
> 
> That's it, I think. Thank you for reading this little oneshot! I have a lot more headcanons pertaining to these two dorks, so I will probably make more little fics like these showing those off. Please feel free to leave a comment if you have the time! The interaction makes me feel like a person (:


End file.
